Broken
by Syncop8ed Rhythm
Summary: Surviving his time in the cabin with Cole, Shawn is left struggling to adapt to a life where everyone knows he's a fraud and no longer trusts him. With a new serial killer emerging and Cole still missing, Shawn's road to recovery won't be easy.
1. Chapter 1

Sequel to _Exposed._

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><p>"<em>We've come to the end of our time together." Cole twirled the knife between his hands, staring down at him. His head tilted, eyes narrowing in thought as he traced the scar from Shawn's gunshot wound. He tore his eyes away from that spot to meet Shawn's gaze. "Goodbye, Shawn."<em>

_And Shawn felt the knife plunge into his chest._

"No!" Shawn gasped as he shot up in his bed. His eyes flew from one side of the room to the other, but all he could see was the last scene from his nightmare, the light glinting off the knife as Cole stabbed him, Cole's eyes narrowing as Shawn cried out. Slowly, the images from the dream bled away until he could see where he was. Home. He was home, safe, not in the cabin with Cole. He shuddered out a sigh, his head drooping as he rubbed his hands across his face.

He was safe.

He laid back down, turning away from his alarm clock. He didn't need to look to know he hadn't been sleeping for long. It was his routine. Lie in bed for hours on end, begging his weary mind to find the reprieve it so desperately needed, only to grab an hour of sleep here…a half hour there.

He was so exhausted. Whenever he did manage to drift off, his mind played back images from his time in the cabin or took one of those memories and weaved a brand new terror that felt just as real. He couldn't even escape when he was sleeping.

He had to move. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the sheets like they were strangling him. He slid carefully to the edge of the bed to stand, his feet padding quietly as he walked slowly down the hallway and into the kitchen.

He parted the blinds on his window to search the darkness outside, cataloguing the neighbor's vehicles and looking for any human-shaped shadows. Usually he could catch the moonlight glinting off the vehicle of his protective detail, but Shawn had asked for it to be removed. It had been five weeks since he had gotten out of the hospital, and Cole hadn't come back for him yet. He would, but not when they were still on high alert. For now, though, enough was enough. Shawn couldn't take them following his every move. Bad enough he couldn't even leave Santa Barbara—a part of the deal the DA had insisted on—his every move had to be shadowed? Besides, it was usually Juliet, Lassiter, or Buzz who watched over him, and on top of Buzz having a wife he needed to spend time with, they each needed to be rested for their shifts.

It was unusually still out; there were no soft breezes teasing the tree branches, no wind chimes breaking the silent monotony of night. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. It was oddly fitting, like the world was holding its breath as it waited for the other shoe to drop. After the cruel turn life had taken, the scales had suddenly tipped in Shawn's favor—not only had he survived the things Cole had done to him, but the people he cared so much for had forgiven him and welcomed him back with open arms.

He couldn't help but wonder when the support they offered him would be ripped away.

His eyes swept the landscape once more before he turned away, satisfied there was nothing lurking in the dark, and headed to the bathroom. He looked down at the sink, his jaw clenching and unclenching before he found the courage to look at his reflection in the mirror. Dull eyes rimmed with purple shadows stared back at him from a pale face, angry red scars crisscrossing his body.

_A knife pressed into his skin, cutting him as Cole chuckled at his pain…_

He shook his head against the memory before he brushed a finger across the knotted scar on his shoulder. Why Cole had chosen to stab him there, in the same exact place Shawn had been shot, he didn't understand. It confused him, unsettled him. He hadn't died when he'd been shot there, so why stab him in the same place and assume it would be enough to kill him? Granted, it almost had been, but…He just didn't know.

He pressed his lips together as he turned away from the mirror. One look over his shoulder was all it took for the next memory to overwhelm him.

_He watched as Cole started to walk back to him, his eyes falling on the whip that dangled loosely in his hands. _

"_Unfortunately for you, Shawn, this means we'll be finishing soon. Much sooner than I had planned."_

_Blow after blow fell on his back, until his skin tore; but Cole continued, his anger lending him more strength and a frenzied need to cause every ounce of pain he could. He continued…until Shawn was numb. Finally, finally numb. _

The monster in the mirror was him.

His knees grew weak and he shot his hands out to catch himself. The dull thump of his cast hitting the sink tore him out of the flashback. Dazed, he looked down, blinking away the moisture in his eyes to see clearly. Juliet and Gus had covered the cast with messages and drawings one of the days he'd been napping, their deliberately light comments and laughter waking him before the nightmare that had just started could trap him in its clutches. Those messages weren't what held his attention now, however. It was his father's only contribution to the cast that he stared at, a drawing of something that had a special meaning for the both of them.

_Shawn twisted his arm, rereading the messages Juliet and Gus had written across his cast. He chuckled at one of the comments, shaking his head and blinking back tears. He didn't deserve them or their support. Never had. _

_His father walked into the hospital room, pausing as he studied him. Shawn kept his eyes fixed on the cast, embarrassed that his father was seeing him this emotional. Not that it was anything new, the last week had been…rough, to say the least. He cleared his throat, swiping his good hand across his eyes as Henry sat in the chair by the bed. He heard the cap pop off the end of the marker and looked up in surprise. He watched, speechless, as Henry grasped his arm and drew seven dots. It only took a moment for him to understand. Orion. It was the first constellation his father had ever taught him. _

_When he was finished, Henry looked back up, his eyes locking on his son's. He didn't say anything, didn't need to; he just wrapped his hand around the back of Shawn's neck and pulled him forward, their foreheads resting against each other. Shawn closed his eyes, struggling to breathe evenly as his father finally spoke._

"_I'm proud of you, son. Never forget that."_

The memory of those words was enough to push back the dark memories that plagued him, if only temporarily. He turned away from the mirror and started the shower. He had a busy day ahead of him.

…

…

Shawn hesitated outside the police station later that morning, his knuckles turning white with the tight grasp he had on the door handle.

"Are you ready for this?" Gus asked.

Shawn inhaled sharply through his nose and jerked his head in a nod. Another moment of hesitation and a glance at Gus, and he swung the door open to step inside quietly. It was such a contrast to the way he used to enter, when he strode enthusiastically into the station, calling out greetings to each person he passed or arguing with Gus about the finer points of 80's pop culture. Now he found himself trying not to draw too much attention to himself, more focused on where he was walking than on the people he was passing.

He had reached the top of the stairs when the busy humming of the station suddenly faded away. His head shot up, his gaze flying from one officer to the next as they stared at him in stunned silence. He shifted uncomfortably, shrinking under the weight of their stares, searching almost desperately for a pair of blue eyes that would offer him the courage he needed. Juliet, however, was nowhere in sight.

He scratched his eyebrow, unconsciously using the hand still encased in the cast. The eyes focused on him followed the movement, and he felt his fingers start to tremble. He hadn't expected them to welcome him back as if nothing had happened, and he'd been correct. Juliet, Lassiter, the Chief, Buzz, and Woody were the only people from the department who had taken the time to visit him. The get well cards that Juliet had circulated around the station had come back pitifully sparse, something that Shawn had expected. Gus, on the other hand, had been furious.

The rant had taken Shawn by surprise, Gus bursting out of his chair to pace the hospital room as he vented his frustration and confusion over the officers' attitudes. The officers had searched frantically for Shawn, Gus assured him, and he didn't understand why they were withdrawing their support for him now. Shawn had looked away from Gus and out the window of the hospital, turning the get-well card over in his hands as he waited for Gus to stop speaking.

"_Their concern was rooted in pity, Gus," he said once Gus grew quiet. "They felt guilty, seeing me with Cole; felt guilty because they couldn't find me. They pitied me for what was happening. They didn't forgive me. There's a difference."_

The surprise he had seen on Gus' face made him wonder if he shouldn't have said anything; especially when Gus continued to look strangely at him throughout the rest of the day.

"Gentlemen."

The Chief's voice was a welcome interruption, pulling him from his thoughts and causing the officers to quickly return to their duties. She gave the two of them a small smile, holding the door to her office open for them.

"Chief," Shawn said, his greeting echoed by Gus. They entered the office and Shawn couldn't help but search the station once more for Juliet.

The Chief moved to sit in the chair behind her desk, gesturing for them to take their seats as well. She folded her hands together and stared at Shawn in concern.

"What have you got for me, Chief?" He asked, trying to avoid the inevitable questions about his health. There was no need to dwell on what had happened. He was fine.

"I told you I was going to help, Shawn," Gus said, glaring at him.

"Gus—"

"I told you" Gus interrupted, speaking slowly, "that I was going to help."

Shawn narrowed his eyes at his friend, but Gus didn't back down. "Fine," he said, a small smile playing across his lips as he turned back to the Chief. "What have you got for _us_?"

Gus dipped his head and Shawn felt a sudden swell of gratitude. After everything, his best friend was still by his side, still supporting him. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to tell Gus how much that meant to him.

Karen had picked up a case file and was tapping it against the desk, using the exchange between the two friends as an opportunity to study Shawn. He met her scrutiny head on, lifting his eyebrows until she finally passed over the folder. He frowned as he flipped it open and started reading.

"A robbery? Really? I'm sure I heard there was an unsolved murder from a week ago that I could help with."

"You will be taking the robbery," Karen stated firmly, leaving him no room to argue.

He ducked his head to finish looking at the file before he handed it to Gus. "I need…" He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd long since passed being able to demand anything from the department. "I'd _like_ to see the crime scene."

Karen nodded. "Of course. I'll have Buzz escort you."

The room fell into silence after she left, Gus completely focused on the case file, and Shawn tapped the arms of his chair in impatience, idly scanning the station again. His heart jumped when he finally saw Juliet, and he pushed to his feet quickly, mumbling an explanation to Gus as he left the room to hurry to her side.

"Hi," she breathed as he bent down to brush a kiss across her cheek. "I'm so sorry we weren't here before your meeting. We had to go see the M.E."

"It's fine," he murmured back as she slipped her hand into his.

He nodded at Lassiter before his attention was caught by the crime scene photos spread across the board. He tilted his head as he studied the pictures of the victim, wincing at the bruises and blood that covered the body. The man had been beaten to death.

Shawn couldn't seem to look away, even if the sight of the gruesome pictures made his breath come in short, quick gasps.

Did the man know he was going to die? Did the person who had inflicted those wounds on him tell him from the very beginning that he was going to be killed? That he was nothing but a pawn to get revenge?

"Shawn?" Juliet tugged at his arm, worry tingeing her voice.

The spell broke, and he looked down at her. "Did you find that note with the body?" He nodded at the board, clearing his throat when his voice came out raspy. The note was written in ink, small letters printed carefully on a white piece of paper. "_Come out, come out, wherever you are…" _it read.

"Yes," Juliet said, turning to study the note in question. "We don't know who it's referring to."

"Mr. Spencer!"

Shawn flinched at the Chief's voice. He hadn't even noticed her come up behind him. "Yes?" He asked, turning to meet her gaze.

"McNab is ready."

He nodded, glancing back at Juliet.

"See you soon. Good luck," she said.

"Thanks, Jules." The pictures drew his attention again, and he squinted, head ducking forward as he tried to get a better look.

"Now, Mr. Spencer."

The sudden annoyance that swept through him at her command took Shawn by surprise; after all, it wasn't the first time the Chief had gotten sharp with him. It was, however, one of the first times he was being kept from a case because she didn't think he could handle it. She didn't trust his persistent claims that he was fine, that he was ready to start his community service.

He nodded at her, avoiding her gaze as he walked away.

So be it. If he had to prove he was ready to return to work by taking the robbery, then he would. No big deal. He could do it—he _would _do it, with no problem.

Because he was _fine._

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><p>AN: I want to thank you all once again for your wonderful support for <em>Exposed<em>. I have been working very hard on this story, and am very excited to begin sharing it with you. I hope it will be worth the wait!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: My deepest apologies over the long wait. I had no intention of leaving the story for so long.

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><p>"Nicely done, Shawn!" Buzz exclaimed, sliding into the driver's seat and turning to smile warmly at him, caught in the excitement of seeing a case successfully solved. The expression froze when he noticed something wasn't quite right. Shawn forced a smile in his direction before his eyes slid over to Gus, who was staring out the window as he ignored them, his leg shaking with nervous energy and his fingers tapping steadily against the arm rest in a pattern that was already beginning to drive Shawn insane.<p>

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Buzz cleared his throat and turned back around to start the car, casting one last wary look back at the friends in the rearview mirror before he began to drive.

The silence in the car quickly became deafening, pushing against Shawn and wearing on his nerves. The blame for the tension rested squarely with him and he knew that. He just didn't have the strength to fix it yet.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

He should apologize, he really should, but he just…he didn't want to. He'd warned Gus to stop, after all. It wasn't his fault Gus had failed to listen to his warnings.

Shawn sighed, looking back out the window at the passing scenery. The ringing of Buzz's cell phone startled him from his thoughts for only a moment before a quick glance at Gus' profile had him sinking back into his guilt and confusion. Why hadn't Gus stopped?

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Shawn grit his teeth, more annoyed than he should be. Gus had a right to be angry.

A few muttered sentences later and Buzz looked back at him. "It's Detective Lassiter. He's requested your presence at another crime scene."

Perfect. Because the first case had gone _so _well and he didn't need a chance to regain his balance.

"Yeah, sure Buzz. What is it?"

Buzz relayed the question, shaking his head at Shawn after he heard the response. "He said he and O'Hara would explain when you got there."

"Great. Thanks," he said, forcing a smile as Buzz assured Lassiter they were on their way, ignoring Gus as he shifted in the seat.

_Taptaptap…_

The tapping came a little quicker, a little more irritation showing in the action. No doubt Gus didn't think this was a good idea, but didn't want to say anything. Shawn didn't blame him. Sharing his opinion the last time had led to the awful silence that currently filled the car.

"_Shawn…" There was a slight hesitation before Gus continued. "You can't compare that situation to you and Juliet."_

"_Leave it alone, Gus," he warned, looking off into the distance and avoiding Gus' eyes._

"_They're different people, Shawn. You can't expect Juliet to-"_

"_Gus, don't. Just…don't." He was pleading now, desperately trying to avoid digging into the emotions that had just been stirred up. _

"_She's a cop, Shawn. It was bound to hit her a little harder than-"_

_At that point, Shawn's patience snapped and he slammed his hand against the roof of the car. "I said to leave it alone!" he hissed, glaring at Gus._

He'd slid into the car after that, feeling awful for putting that look of shock on Gus' face, but it was Shawn's issue. Shawn and Juliet's, not Gus'.

The married couple who'd been robbed had seemed so loving and perfect until Shawn had solved the case. Then the husband's dirty little secret came out. He had gambling debts; debts he'd tried to pay off by selling some of their electronics and other personal items, and passing the missing items off as the results of a burglary.

"_You lied to me!"_

"_I didn't want to lose you!"_

The glowing, loving wife quickly snapped when the elaborate cover-up was exposed, and Shawn couldn't help but draw similarities between her and Juliet. Except the similarities had ended when the husband had tried to apologize one last time and the wife had slowly reached out to him.

"_I know," _she'd whispered to Shawn's surprise. The scene had been one of anger and forgiveness and it twisted Shawn's heart, made him question one of the few people left that he felt he could rely on.

He had hoped Juliet would react like this, when she discovered his secret. Anger, he had expected. He had lied to her since they'd met, after all. He had even been prepared for her to tell the Chief. He had hoped against it, but he was prepared nonetheless. It was the nature of her job, he'd told himself. She was a police officer and he was scamming not only the public, but the police department as well. She had a duty to turn him in, and he had understood when she made that choice.

Besides that, though, when he tried to apologize, to explain, he thought…maybe. Maybe she would be able to see why he had started and continued the charade. Maybe she'd be able to understand the strange thrill he got solving cases his own way while still using the skills his father had taught him.

They loved each other.

He had hoped it would be enough, but his attempts at apologizing had been cut off, the sting of her hand against his cheek and the tears falling down her face crumbling the last pieces of hope that he had held on to.

He had lost her.

Until Cole came along and somehow reminded her of what she and Shawn had had together. He could understand to an extent. After all, Shawn had dredged up some memories of his own when he was with Cole. The total flip of her mentality, the sudden blanket of forgiveness that she had cast over him, however, had left him struggling to find his balance.

Juliet kept trying to get him to talk about their brief separation, but he refused to do so. _"It doesn't matter," _he'd told her and would continue to tell her as he struggled to control his fear.

What if they talked and she changed her mind? It had been such a quick change of heart…what if it wasn't permanent?

"_Their concern was rooted in pity, Gus. They felt guilty, seeing me with Cole; felt guilty because they couldn't find me. They pitied me for what was happening. They didn't forgive me. There's a difference."_

What if it wasn't truly forgiveness? He didn't want to consider that possibility and did everything he could to push it away, to pretend everything was fine. If he didn't dwell on it, then it wasn't really an issue. It was an old trick of his, one that had probably never really worked for him before, and it was failing him again, because the fear was still there, eating away at him and the foundations he was trying to lay.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Shawn closed his eyes at the hot swoop of irritation he felt and pursed his lips as he took a slow deep breath in…and let it out. Something had to give in this little impasse he and Gus had, and it was going to have to be him. It wasn't Gus he was really mad at. It was himself; himself and Cole and this whole twisted situation that made him unsure of his place in the lives of his family and friends.

They were pulling into the parking lot of a small factory crawling with police activity, the next crime scene, and he still hadn't apologized to Gus, let alone come to grips with the strange feelings the robbery had brought to the surface. He banged his head gently against the back of the seat before he made up his mind to fix the one thing he could.

He turned to look at Gus. "I'm sor-"

"Don't," Gus cut him off and Shawn frowned.

"But…"

"Nope." Gus turned to look at him, cocking an eyebrow and tilting up a corner of his mouth, the expression beckoning Shawn to just let go, for one moment.

Shawn felt a little of the weight on his chest lift at the escape Gus was offering. He huffed and spoke again. "I was just going to say-"

"Jerked chicken?"

A surprised laugh came from Shawn, his spirits lifting as Gus stole the words from his mouth. It was hit-and-miss with the two of them as they tried to return to the brothers they'd been before. The earlier situation was a miss, even though Gus had known exactly what was bothering Shawn. He'd just pushed to have a conversation that Shawn wasn't ready to have yet. It would take them time to regain the rhythm of their friendship, but every time they did, Shawn felt another little piece of the puzzle fall back into place. "You've got that right," he said, the sincere smile that stretched his mouth feeling foreign, but _oh so good._

"I know I do," Gus said, jutting his head to the side in a move that made Shawn smile even wider.

It felt _so good…_

He was still feeling a little lighter when he got out of the car, optimistic for the first time in…_weeks_… Until he caught sight of Juliet and Lassiter. Waiting for him near the building, the partners were talking intensely about something that had Juliet leaning angrily into Lassiter's personal space as she talked and Lassiter calmly replying. All thoughts of the previous case fled at the unusual behavior and he glanced around the parking lot, suddenly noticing the tension seeping from the other officers. Something was very wrong.

In the past, he would hang back, maybe eavesdrop a little if it was possible, all to learn about the case before he stepped in. He couldn't wait this time. He hurried forward, frowning as Juliet cut off in the middle of a sentence. "What? What is it?" He asked, looking between them.

Juliet took a deep breath, anger melting into worry and sorrow as she turned to face him. She grasped his arm and he waited as she struggled to say the words. "You remember the murder victim you saw this morning?" At Shawn's nod, she continued. "Whoever did it struck again. And he left another note."

He narrowed his eyes, darting a look at Lassiter before returning his gaze to her. The evidence bag in Lassiter's hands was held out to Shawn and he took it, his gaze still resting on Juliet.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He pursed his lips and looked down at the paper

_Peek-a-boo. I see you…_

And beneath those words was a picture of him, taken the day Gus had helped him move back into his house.

He stared blankly at the note before his body caught up with his mind's command to _move, run, go_! The bag slipped from his numb fingers and he pushed past Lassiter, ignoring the hands that reached out to stop him as he ran into the building and down a hallway.

No. No, no, no. The words repeated, an endless, useless loop of protests that came to an abrupt halt when he froze in the doorway, his eyes glued to the dead body and the cattle prod lying beside it.

…

_Thoroughly piss off best friend. Check._

_Forgive and make it up to said best friend. Check._

_Stand by helplessly and watch while best friend meets worst nightmare head on. Check. _

Gus ran a hand down his face, looking at the scene in front of him with disbelief. This was too soon. Shawn wasn't ready to face this, would _never _be ready to face this.

"Shawn?" He asked quietly.

Shawn ignored him, stepping a little further into the room. Gus took a deep breath and returned his attention to the crime scene.

The man hung limply against the rope that tied him to the chair, the burn marks marring his body obvious even from where Gus stood across the room.

_The crackle of electricity filled the air a split second before Cole attacked, a sound that made Gus' skin crawl. He would never forget that sound or the sound of his best friend's pain. _

The dead man wasn't Shawn, but the scene was too familiar. They had come too close to losing Shawn, to finding him after his body had given up.

"Shawn?" It was Juliet this time.

Shawn's shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh before he spoke. "Well…looks like he finally made his first move."

The flatness to his voice, the lack of feeling, made the hair on the back of Gus' neck stand up. _Shawn couldn't face this right now. _He had to get him out of there. Now.

"Shawn." He put his hand on Shawn's shoulder, squeezing until his friend turned to face him. He may have hidden his emotions from his voice, but he had yet to hide them from his face. His eyes screamed at Gus, a plea for help, for this not to be real, a silent plea that only those closest to him would ever be able to read, and Gus almost staggered back a step at the force of the emotion. "Let's go," he said, the words coming out more like a whispered plea than a command.

"No," Shawn shook his head, jaw clenching. "I can't."

"You can. You don't have to do this; you don't have to touch this case. Lassiter and Juliet can handle it."

Shawn pulled away from Gus and turned to face the victim. When he turned back to Gus, the mask was firmly in place and he knew he had lost all hope of reasoning with him.

"No. I'm staying. You can leave if you want to."

There was one last card he could use, one last chance for him to get Shawn to reconsider, and if that didn't work…it looked like Shawn and Gus were going to be jumping right in to the investigation.

"Don't make me go through this again. I can't, Shawn." His voice cracked and he took a step closer to Shawn to keep the officers working in the room from overhearing. Surprise widened Shawn's eyes, the mask cracking slightly at Gus' obvious distress. "I can't watch you go through this again, Shawn. I can't watch Cole torture you again. Wasn't the first time enough? _I_ _can't do it again." _

Shawn studied him, eyes narrowing before he hung his head and breathed out a sigh. "You can't watch me and I can't walk away," he finally said. He looked back up at Gus. "I won't blame you if you don't want to help on this case, Buddy. I understand. But I…I _have_ to investigate this. I don't have a choice. These victims are suffering _because of me._" He shut his mouth suddenly and turned around, pacing a short distance away as he tried to control himself. His hands clenched and unclenched, but Gus still saw the tremors.

The words Shawn couldn't say were painfully obvious to Gus, the selfless reasons he needed to do this and the guilt he felt for the victims, who had been hurt just to get back at him… Gus couldn't walk away, not when Shawn was facing this.

He would stay.

_Stand by and helplessly watch best friend begin to unravel…_

_Check_

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><p>AN: Thank you so much for your incredible reviews. I've been working on this chapter since before I posted the first chapter, have struggled with it, and your enthusiastic comments were what got me through. Thank you, thank you!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Many, many,_ many_ thanks for your wonderful reviews.

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><p>"Don't make me go through this again. I can't, Shawn." Gus said, voice cracking as he took a step closer to him. "I can't watch you go through this again, Shawn. I can't watch Cole torture you again. Wasn't the first time enough? <em>I<em> _can't do it again." _

Shawn's head bowed under the weight of Gus' statement, reminded yet again that he had not been the only one affected by the events in the cabin. "You can't watch me and I can't walk away." He looked back up at Gus. "I won't blame you if you don't want to help on this case, Buddy. I understand. But I…I _have_ to investigate this. I don't have a choice. These victims are suffering _because of me._" He cut off the rest of his words as he spun away, his jaw clenching in helpless anger. Each of the victims Cole had already killed and all of the ones he would target, their pain, their blood, their deaths…_all on his hands_.

He had no choice. He had to investigate this. But Gus did not. He could walk away right now, if he chose to, and Shawn wouldn't, _couldn't, _blame him.

He didn't want to turn around, didn't want to face the possibility that he would see Gus shake his head as he decided not to help him. He knew if he stalled any longer, though, that Gus would let go of his own needs and stay out of misplaced loyalty for him. He didn't understand. What had he ever done to deserve that kind of loyalty? What had made him so specialthat Gus would stand by him all these years?

He took a deep breath, hand scrubbing against his face before he turned back around. Whatever Gus decided, he would support completely. He could do that much, at least.

"I'm staying," Gus said, meeting Shawn's eyes, not even flinching at the responsibility he was choosing to share with Shawn as they searched for a torturer turned serial killer.

The relief Shawn felt at that statement, at the lack of any hesitation from his friend, couldn't completely cover the guilt that surfaced. After everything he had done, he had no right to need Gus so much, nor, for that matter, Juliet and his father. Adding to that, before his time in the cabin, he had always thought he was independent, that if push came to shove, he didn't need the support of his family and friends to stand tall. But he was wrong. The independence he thought he had was nothing but an illusion, one of many masks he donned, a lie to himself and to all whom he met, and the realization was jarring.

Lassiter cleared his throat and Shawn shifted his attention to him. "Why don't you take a look around and then we'll head back to the station, get you caught up on the first case."

Shawn licked his lips and nodded, turning his attention back to the crime scene as he stepped away from his friends. He tilted his head as he studied the dead body, walking a wide circle around the chair.

"What do you see?" Juliet asked. There was a different curiosity to the question then there used to be, and he glanced back at her, confused by the fascination with which she watched him. He gave a slow nod when comprehension dawned, a thoughtful hum not quite making it past his lips. She had plied him with questions during his recovery, asking him how he worked crime scenes, how he found clues that she or Lassiter might miss, how he came to some of the outlandish conclusions that weren't as far off base as one might assume. This was the first time she had seen him solve a crime without pretending to be psychic. She was seeing Shawn Spencer, son of a police officer and home-grown detective, for the first time.

He hesitated for a moment before he laid out the crime scene as he saw it and the conclusions he had already drawn. Death, to him, was a given, the man's heart giving out from the electricity. He told her his assumption that the man had died in the same place he'd been discovered, the manner in which he had been caught in the first place_-"Probably the same drug Cole used to incapacitate me," he said, pursing his lips_-and more; all of the clues he saw that summed up the man's death. An innocent man who had been pulled into a fight he should never have been a part of.

It dawned on him suddenly that the empathy he had felt for the first victim earlier that morning hadn't been misplaced. He had felt a connection with the man because there _was _one. The questions he had asked, whether the man had known if he was going to die, if he had been told he was only a pawn, were answered. Cole would have told the man, would have answered honestly that he had no problem with him. Just as he had been honest with Shawn.

"_Look man, I'm sorry for your loss. That sucks. But why am I here? I wasn't involved with your brother's case." _

"_I know, and I must say I'm very sorry about taking you."_

"_Hey, it's no problem. Everyone makes mistakes; no harm done. I'll just go now." Shawn forced a confident smile, heart sinking when the man started to shake his head. _

"_I'm afraid you can't leave. You see, you're the only one that will work." _

_The words were gentle, but matter-of-fact, and Shawn couldn't stop staring at him, incredulous. There was something very off about this man. "What are you talking about?" Shawn asked._

"_The Santa Barbara police department was responsible for my brother's arrest, and ultimately, his death. You took away my brother, my only family." Cole was addressing the camera now, talking to the people he assumed were watching his little freak show. "You took away the most important person in the world to me. I want you all to pay! I want you to know what it's like to lose someone important to you!" _

And now, Cole's focus had shifted. It wasn't the SBPD that was his target; it was Shawn. All because he had survived three days of hell.

Sometimes he wondered if Cole had made the right choice; if choosing Shawn to kidnap had hurt the SBPD as much as Cole had thought it would. Based on the officers' reaction to his appearance at the police station that morning, that would be a _no. _

It wasn't until Gus casually jostled shoulders with him that Shawn realized he had let his observations trail off into silence as he got lost in his thoughts.

"You ready to head back?" Gus asked quietly, and Shawn sucked in a deep breath, casting one last look around the crime scene before he nodded. He needed to see the evidence from the last crime scene, and he should probably call his dad. Cole's return wasn't something he could hide from his father, nor did he want to.

But not right now.

He followed Lassiter and Juliet, Gus walking beside him as they left the building in silence and headed to the car. Juliet glanced back at him and slowed her pace to match his. "Y_ou lied to me!"_ _she yelled, stalking towards him, hands fisted in anger. _Her hand brushed gently against his, and Shawn looked down at her, forcing the corner of his mouth up in a vague smile.

Right now, he needed a few minutes to wrap his head around what was happening and the still shifting consequences of his lie.

…

…

"_Look Daddy! I look just like you!" Shawn said. He ran into the room and Henry couldn't help but laugh at the image that greeted him. Henry's shoes, too large for Shawn's feet, clomped heavily against the floor as he raced towards his father, Henry's police badge winking at him from where it hung out of Shawn's shirt pocket. The police cap bounced up and down on his head until he came to a stop and it slid forward to cover his eyes. _

"_Just like me?" Henry questioned, tipping the hat back for his son. Wide eyes brimming with innocence peered up at Henry, a huge smile bunching the boy's chubby cheeks as he nodded vigorously. _

"_And when I grow up, I wanna be a p'lice officer!"_

_Another chuckle escaped him as he bent over and scooped up his son. "You do?" He asked before wiggling his fingers gently against his son's side._

"_Yes!" Shawn squealed, suddenly squirming with laughter. "Don't tickle me, Daddy!"_

_Henry stopped and looked into his son's eyes, considering the possibility. Why not? What could it hurt to help Shawn develop the skills he needed to be observant? To put clues together? He was a bright kid, and Henry could already tell his son was gifted. It couldn't hurt, could it? "Do you want me to show you how to be one?"_

Henry threw the magazine down on his coffee table with a muttered oath, glaring at the slow-moving clock as he pushed to his feet. It seemed that nothing would be able to hold his attention on his son's first day back to work. Not his early morning walk, not the yard work he had attempted earlier, not even the fishing magazine he had just tried to read. He rubbed his hands across his head and paced into the kitchen, eyeing the silent phone as he walked to the fridge.

He hadn't heard anything from his son, but no news was good news, right? Plus he had Guster, Juliet, _and_ Lassiter's word that they would watch out for Shawn. That didn't mean Henry wasn't going to "accidently" pull enough steaks for Shawn and Gus to come over for lunch. That way, Henry could see for himself how Shawn was faring.

The phone rang before he could find the steaks. The bag of peas he had just taken out of the freezer to search behind was abruptly shoved back in before he darted for the phone, answering it before it could even finish its first ring.

"Hello?"

"Henry? It's Karen."

He frowned, confused to hear from her again. She had already gotten in touch with him earlier that morning to tell him she'd given Shawn his first case. She shouldn't be calling him again so soon. "Karen? What's wrong?" He asked, pushing the words past a throat that had grown tight with worry.

With just a few sentences, the world Henry had been trying to rebuild crashed down around him. Cole had finally returned, ready to start his new twisted game, and Shawn was once again at the center of it.

"We'll protect him, Henry. He'll be surrounded by officers at the station, and we'll reinstate the protective detail. Cole won't be able to touch him."

She was reassuring him that Shawn would be fine, that nothing would happen. Didn't she understand that Cole had already attacked Shawn? Even if he hadn't been touched, this was personal for his son. The security he had tried to rebuild had already been shaken with the return of the monster who stole it the first time.

"Where is he now?"

"At the crime scene. Once he's finished, he'll be heading back."

It didn't matter if Shawn was surrounded by officers. He knew how uncomfortable Shawn felt around them already. It also didn't matter if Juliet and Lassiter were nearby, or if Gus was hovering over him. They weren't Shawn's father.

He wasn't going to let his son face this without him.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up before she could say anything, either in agreement or disagreement. It didn't matter. Nothing was going to stop him from being there for Shawn.

He paused near the back door as he was leaving, his attention caught by the photo that hung on the wall. It was a picture of Shawn, taken when he was no more than four or five years old, and he was grinning mischievously into the camera, Henry's police cap tilted precariously on his head.

"_Do you want me to show you how to be one?"_

_Shawn gasped, his eyes lighting up in excitement at the offer before he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Henry's neck. "Yes! Thank you, Daddy!"_

Henry's eyes closed in sorrow. Innocence had been stripped from his son, and it hadn't been Cole who had started it. Henry had. Good intentions aside, the little lessons he gave his son had opened Shawn's eyes to the dark possibilities that existed in the world. He had never seen those lessons in that light before, but it was painfully clear now what he had done to his son.

It didn't matter if he had done it so Shawn could be prepared, so he had the best chance at catching the bad guy and coming out safely on the other side. All Henry could see was his offer to his son and its consequences.

All he could see…was that it had been him who put his son in danger first.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Your wonderful support (and patience) is so very much appreciated. Thank you!

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><p>His son was already absorbed in the case by the time he got to the police station, and Henry breathed a sigh of relief, his frantic pace coming to a stop so sudden the officers behind him barely missed running into him. He ignored them and their muttered curses, his whole attention focused on Shawn.<p>

There had always been something about watching his son work that Henry found captivating, especially when Shawn was so absorbed in a case he wasn't aware of anyone's scrutiny. The intelligence Shawn so often hid would burn brightly in his eyes; his lips would purse, his face would scrunch in concentration, and his head would tilt as he picked up on a clue. It was _fascinating_.

If Shawn thought someone was paying attention to him, however, he felt the need to put on a show. His intense focus was hidden by a cocky, immature persona that left a bitter taste in Henry's mouth. He had raised his son to be so much more than a joke! Couldn't he see that no one took him seriously? Couldn't he see how his actions reflected poorly on Henry? Make no mistake, Henry loved his son fiercely; but irritation and impatience over the way his son had decided to portray himself had crowded out affection and pride, severing a relationship that had begun splintering during Shawn's teenage years.

Then when Shawn decided to become a _psychic _detective? Henry had been poised to brush off his son once more, but there had been the slightest hints of pride that had mingled in with his annoyance as Shawn successfully solved his first case. As strange as it was, Psych had offered him and his son a fresh start. He had seen his son use the skills Henry had painstaking taught him to solve crimes, adding his own unique twist to them, of course. He had seen Shawn grow as a person, as a detective, as a _son_.

He should have been prepared for the danger, thought he _had_ been prepared. After all, he had taught Shawn basic survival skills and ways to defend himself; but he had never expected the level of criminals that would be attracted by his son's brilliant mind. Or fake psychic abilities, for that matter. He had wanted his son to be successful, but with that success came recognition and criminals bent on challenging him. Henry had been forced to stand by and watch his son confront them, his meager defensive skills nothing compared to the perilous situations and ruthless foes he faced.

His son had surprised him yet again, however. The intelligence that Henry took pride in and the sophomoric humor that irritated him had been the main components of the defense Shawn used against criminals, along with steely undertones of confidence and unexpected bravery.

Henry was damn proud of _his son_.

Determined to take advantage of the opportunity and watch his son work, he leaned against the wall, arms crossing as he settled in for his vigil. Shawn must have felt the extra eyes on him, however, because a few minutes later he turned around with a frown, eyes sweeping across the station until he saw Henry. He muttered an excuse to his friends and walked over to join him, shoulders hunching as he ignored the stares that followed him.

Henry couldn't tell if the officers were just curious or angry—he had his own opinion on the officers' attitude towards Shawn—but whatever the intentions were, they made his son uncomfortable and he leveled a warning glare at the offending members until they returned to their work.

"You come all the way down here because you were worried about me?"

There was an interesting balance of emotions in his voice that took Henry by surprise, and he swallowed the _yes_ he'd been about to articulate. There was a genuine appreciation that Henry had come, but also irritation for his presence, and Henry realized the confirmation he'd been about to give would have undermined his son. Shawn was torn between wanting his support, _needing_ it, and still being able to cope on his own. He needed to work on this case with the support of his father, but without his father hovering over him.

He couldn't do that to his son, couldn't make him feel weak by telling him he was worried. "Don't flatter yourself, kid. I just pulled too many steaks for dinner and wanted to see if Gus was hungry."

Slouching against Juliet's desk, halfway across the room from where Shawn and Henry were, Gus suddenly straightened and swiveled his head towards them. "Steaks?" He asked, his voice just barely reaching them over the cacophony of the station.

"How did he hear that?" Henry asked in astonishment as Shawn snorted. He gave a little shake of his head before moving on. "Dinner?" The two friends looked at each other, Gus' eyes widening in a hopeful expression that made Shawn roll his own.

"Yeah, we'll be there," Shawn sighed, eyes sparkling with the smallest flare of humor as Gus did a little happy dance.

Henry watched the exchange with approval, grateful that Gus' antics were able to provide a lighter contrast to Shawn's new seriousness. Why had it taken Henry so long to realize the immature, childish behavior that had bothered him so much had hidden Shawn's real thoughts and reactions? How long had his son used innocence and humor as a shield, not just for dangerous situations, but for everyday life?

And now that that defense had been stolen from him, how would Shawn cope?

"Six o'clock. Don't be late." Henry clasped Shawn's shoulder and met his eyes to say one last thing. "My phone's on." He waited until Shawn nodded to walk away.

"Dad…"

Henry turned to find his son absently tracing one of the drawings on his cast.

"Do you…Do you want to stay?" He asked, eyebrows lifting in question.

Henry rocked back on his heels, surprised by the offer and more tempted than he would admit. He gave a small smile and shook his head, however. "Thanks, kiddo, but I think you've got this."

Shawn gave a surprised little quirk of his lips and nodded one last time before Henry took his leave.

Walking away made him feel like the worst kind of father. His instincts were screaming that he was going to make Shawn vulnerable with his absence, but it wasn't true. His presence would only make Shawn doubt his own skills, would make him feel less prepared to face this threat. It hurt him to leave, but it was what Shawn needed.

He could do that for his son. For now.

…

…

He should have seen it.

It was a thought he hadn't been able to get out of his head since he'd left the crime scene.

He should have seen it.

Before he'd met Spencer, Lassiter had been proud of his detective skills. His solve rate was above respectable, his ability to wrangle a confession from a perp unmatched by any who dared challenge him.

The detective skills Lassiter had been so confident of, however, had floundered when Spencer entered the picture.

Spencer, who had called in a tip on a robbery and was brought to Lassiter's attention because he knew details only the criminal should have known. The younger man had irritated Lassiter from the start, though he wouldn't have been able to explain why. Sure the kid was annoying, entitled, arrogant, and idiotic; but that wasn't what bothered Lassiter the most. It wasn't until he had worked with the fake psychic on several cases that the answer came to him.

He was threatened by Spencer. Threatened by his ability to see what Lassiter missed, by his ability to read a crime scene as if he'd been born to do it. Threatened that his hard-earned success would disappear as the station became enamored with the flashy fake psychic. It didn't matter if Spencer showed no inclination to be an officer, apparently relishing his position as psychic consultant; Lassiter couldn't get past his irrational feelings. _He _was the real deal. Him. Not Spencer.

His rivalry with the younger man had pushed Lassiter to do better, to be the detective he _knew_ he was. But no matter how hard he tried, Spencer could still upstage him. He wasn't inept, he wasn't stupid, he wasn't a bad detective. It was just that the fake psychic had a natural born talent that he now knew had been honed since he was a child.

It was an easier excuse for him to swallow than being psychic, at least, a ridiculous lie that Lassiter had seen through from the very start.

He had been a good enough detective to see through the well-played charade, but not enough to see what they were all facing. No, it had taken a second crime scene, a second murdered man, and a note to clue him in.

He should have seen it.

He tried to ignore Spencer as the younger man stepped up next to him, uncomfortable with him, uncertain on how to act around him. Not exactly friends before his secret came out, they had reluctantly accepted the other's presence in their lives, alternately badgering and teasing each other as they worked, and acting as unexpected back-up for the other when he was in deep trouble. Lassiter had respected Spencer's skills, and over time, Spencer himself.

Just a little.

O'Hara was one of the few who had breached his barriers and earned his complete respect, even if he would never admit it. When Spencer's secret came out, it had hurt her, hurt his partner, and Lassiter had seen red. Any and all progress he and Spencer had made was destroyed when his partner found him and fought back tears as she explained Spencer's betrayal.

Lassiter wanted Spencer to be punished for what he did to O'Hara and Santa Barbara, and for the mockery he had made of the police force. He wanted Spencer to be prosecuted and sent to jail, case closed, the end.

When Spencer had been kidnapped, targeted because of his close relationship with the department—_punished_ because of it—however, the situation became much less open-and-shut than Lassiter thought it would be. Stripped of lies, of all of his defenses, of all his support, Spencer had been laid bare for them all to see. He wasn't just the "psychic" that Lassiter tolerated. He was the man his partner had, for some reason, fallen in love with. He was Guster's partner-in-crime, literally, and a retired cop's son.

And Lassiter's personal pain in the ass.

His anger had cooled over the three days Spencer was taken. His need to see Spencer punished within an inch of his life was much less appealing when it looked like the younger man might actually be murdered in front of his eyes. That wasn't justice, in any sense of the word.

This? This new game with Cole? This wasn't just, either.

He should have seen it.

"You're brooding," Spencer said, and Lassiter crossed his arms.

"I am doing no such thing," he refuted.

"Please," Spencer scoffed. "This is your typical brooding posture. Crossed arms, rigid shoulders, furrowed brow…If you're not brooding, then I'm a…a…"

The younger man's shoulders slumped as the witty retort failed. Shame. It had been a good attempt, too.

"I'm not brooding," Lassiter shook his head, rescuing the younger man from the aborted response. "Brooding is something fourteen-year-old girls do. I am _concentrating."_

Spencer hummed, crossing his arms as he followed Lassiter's line of sight to the crime scene board. The silence between the two men stretched, and Lassiter shifted his weight, suddenly feeling uncomfortable enough to fidget.

It was so obvious, looking at the pictures now, that Cole had been calling Spencer out.

_He should have seen it._

"Don't worry about it, Lassiter. I didn't see it either."

Lassiter clenched his jaw; he hadn't meant to speak that failure out loud. He shook his head, unable to accept the easy forgiveness the younger man offered him. He may not have Spencer's talents, but he was a darn good detective in his own right. "But I _should _have," he argued.

Spencer snorted, wrapping the arms he'd crossed a little closer to his body. "And I shouldn't have? I saw the pictures this morning and knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. There was no way to know it would be Cole." Spencer turned to meet his eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Lassiter."

Unwilling to completely let go of his guilt, Lassiter still felt the tension in his shoulders ease just the smallest amount as he turned back to the board. Which, judging by the half-smile he saw on Spencer's face out of the corner of his eyes, the younger man hadn't missed.

Oh, for the love of California penal code, they just had a _moment, _didn't they?

Lassiter blinked at the sudden switch in the man's temperament as a frustrated frown replaced the triumphant smirk.

"At least now we know who did this and what will happen next. Not that it will help us stop Cole."

O'Hara looked up from her computer and Guster sidled a little closer to his friend, both no longer pretending they couldn't hear the conversation between the two men.

"What do you mean?" Lassiter asked.

Spencer gave him a sad smile. "You see it, too," he said. "It's just so obvious you wouldn't give it a second thought."

Lassiter frowned, eyes roaming the pictures as he wondered what would be so... He blew out a harsh breath when it clicked. It was painfully clear, now that he _looked_.

He should have seen that, too.

"What?" Guster asked, hovering nervously over his best friend.

"He's following the same pattern of what he did to me," Spencer said simply. "The first victim was beaten. He used the cattle prod on the second one. On the third victim, he'll use…" The look that entered his eyes alarmed Lassiter, the faraway, haunted gaze making it obvious that he was recalling a horrific memory.

"A knife," Lassiter finished, eyes closing.

_Lassiter kept up a steady stream of silent curses as the knife flashed in front of the camera, the silver of the blade slowly dulling to a deep crimson. His hands curled into fists and his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his anger locked away. He needed to keep a clear head, needed to present a strong front for his partner to lean on. Snapping at the video now wouldn't provide that image. _

_He wasn't an emotional person, but the weak gasp and moan from the man he had grudgingly grown to respect made him feel like he'd been sucker punched. Not just because of the pain Spencer was going through, but because of the pain he sensed those noises evoked in the people that were watching; his partner the most important of them._

_The bloody knife being wiped on the tatters of Spencer's shirt was the last insult, and he found himself cursing at the screen, his voice mixing with Guster's, Henry's, and the Chief's. O'Hara's anger and grief found an outlet in the glass vase on the Chief's table, the gesture speaking of her helplessness in a way she would never quite be able to articulate._

_Cole's voice broke the silence in the wake of her departure. Lassiter waited impatiently for the man to finish speaking to follow her, but Henry's outstretched hand and quiet "I've got her," stopped him. As much as he wanted…needed…to be there for his partner, he had to admit Henry would be the best person to help her right now. He let his eyes linger on the screen for a few more minutes, the echoes of Shawn and Juliet's pain fueling his rage._

_I will find you__, he vowed, glaring at Cole as the man smiled into the camera._ _You won't get away with this. _

"I don't understand, though. What's his game? Why go to all this trouble?" O'Hara asked, voice raspy from her own dark memories.

Spencer tapped his mouth with a finger and shook his head, eyes still focused on something no one else could see. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I do not own Psych, which—on top of the cold/pneumonia thing I've got going on—sucks.

Surprise! I have an update! Whaaat?! ;-) Thank you all so much for not only your support, but also your patience. My apologies for the long wait.

Many, many thanks to my beta for this chapter who lent her expertise despite how very busy she is. _You are wonderful. _

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><p>For all his attempts at hiding it, Shawn was not a simple man. She'd almost fooled herself into believing he was when she'd first met him; but she'd quickly realized what a mistake that assumption was the more she got to know him. Most people who met him held the perception that he was immature and would subsequently write him off without a second thought. Shawn <em>was <em>immature; Juliet wouldn't deny that. Immature and selfish and proud; brazen and sarcastic and completely unconcerned with others' opinions. But he was also funny and caring and loving and more concerned with others' well-being than his own. And, at the most unexpected times, when he was with her and her only—shy. Shy and gentle and tender.

For someone most assumed had a flat personality, he held a wealth of emotions that Juliet so loved to study.

Happiness was shown with his bickering with Gus, his needling of Lassiter, and his soft smile as he and Juliet talked. His eyes sparkled with his giddiness and his motions were exuberant, lighter, as if a burden had been removed from his shoulders. Sometimes, however, his happiness was shown with his complacency—his inability to let Juliet escape the arms he had wrapped around her, his shoulder bumping against his dad's as they sat on the beach to watch the sunset, or his nestling on the couch as he and Gus started a movie marathon.

Anger was shown in quiet stillness or quick movement; in soft, monotonous words or with a sharp tongue; with a sarcastic offering of fake-friendliness or outright hostility. There was nothing more chilling or unsettling than seeing him smile and not having that expression reach his eyes.

His exhaustion was sometimes shown in the rambling of words that ranged from what he had snacked on to what he really wanted in life—from boyish excitement to mature musings. Other times, his silence and sluggish movements tattled on his weariness. She could spend hours detailing how his eyes flared with a certain emotion, how his mouth pinched when he was tired or his hands trembled when he was in pain, how he acted out when he was uncomfortable, what his voice sounded like when he was happy, sad, angry, tired, sarcastic...

She considered herself one of three experts on the man, and still she found herself struggling to really understand him. Those emotions and characteristics that she could read were only truly transparent whenever he let his guard down, and that was only when he was with the people he trusted. He was only _real _with them. Whenever he wanted to be, however, he was nothing but smoke and mirrors. He could cover one emotion with another, was an expert at hiding one motivation with a flurry of activity that drew attention elsewhere.

Case in point: she'd seen the aftereffects of a house trashed by Shawn when his father had been shot. She had seen the anger and grief in his actions, and she knew exhaustion had also led to his lack of restraint. Shawn himself had admitted to those reasons, which had just confirmed the signs Juliet had easily read; the tremble in his fingers, the hard blinks, the edgy movements that were nowhere near his usual smoothness... She didn't realize until much later that he had used those excuses to hide his true motivations for destroying Jerry Carp's valuables—to search the man's house for clues as to where he might be in hiding.

So today, when he'd started acting strangely, first at the station and then at his father's house that evening, she'd detected grief and anger, uncertainty and vulnerability, and the weariness that had tainted him since..._since_. She could only predict the reasoning behind it—the return of a monster. Watching him throughout the day, however, she couldn't help but feel as though she was still missing something...

She had had little difficulty getting back to the level of affection they had shown before Shawn's secret came out. Her issues had been worked through quickly and thoroughly while she watched, helpless, as Cole tried to break the man she would marry. While the certainty of her feelings was strengthened, however, Shawn's own was weakened. She knew he still loved her; but Cole had made him doubt her love for him and his worthiness of those feelings.

He'd been awkward and uncertain around her since then, still questioning their places with each other, and Juliet had taken the lead. _She _grabbed his hand as they walked side-by-side; _she _lifted his arm and burrowed into his side. _She _leaned in for kisses and trailed her hands across his shoulders whenever she could; until he'd started to initiate the caresses and gestures that had once been second nature to him. They were better, but Juliet was still unable to break through whatever was keeping him just a shade distant from her.

But this—this hesitation that she had slowly realized throughout the day was directed only towards her—was something more. Juliet had watched him, a permanent furrow between her eyebrows that she tried to smooth whenever he glanced her way. She'd even pulled him aside after lunch to ask how he was, watching carefully for any sign that he was hiding something from her. He'd told her he was fine and then waved his hand back in the direction of the squad room.

"Just…"he'd said, trailing off as he'd searched for words that wouldn't come, and she'd nodded her understanding. She could accept that, but she'd needed to make sure.

"Is that all?" She'd pressed, and he'd tilted his head.

"Isn't that enough?"

It wasn't an answer, not one she could work with at least. They'd been interrupted before she could dig any deeper, and she'd watched as he'd made his way back to the squad room and the pictures of the crime scene victims that reminded her so much of Shawn in Cole's clutches. As they were meant to.

The rest of the day had been spent working side by side, completely focused on the case, and when she'd arrived at Henry's for dinner, Shawn had greeted her with a quick kiss. They'd sat next to each other and chatted as a group after Shawn finished venting his frustration over the stipulations Gus and Henry had demanded before accepting their police protection. Yet there'd been a strained awkwardness between them all day despite their concentration on the case, and when they sat next to each other at dinner, he didn't lean closer to her. He didn't brush her arm or rest his arm on the back of the chair for her to slide into his side. It was one step forward and two steps back—the little gestures of affection she'd worked so hard to help Shawn feel comfortable initiating again…gone.

She missed him. Missed his goofiness, his exuberant wooing, his serious affection. She missed _him. _She wanted him back and something had happened, recently, to spread even further the rift between them she had been trying, and failing, to heal. She was desperate to help him, desperate to fix him, but she didn't know what had happened to lead to his latest withdrawal from her. Whatever the reason, she was determined to push them past the issues she had had such a hand in creating.

The evening at Henry's had been a welcome break from the tension that had filled Juliet's day. There was something about being surrounded by a group of friends and soon-to-be family that created a stable and calm atmosphere that she reveled in. It cleared her mind, helped her to relax—just a little—and Shawn, too, if the way he'd finally settled into the deep cushions of the couch late that evening had been any indication.

They had deliberately steered clear of the case until after dinner, a wise decision on Henry's part, Juliet thought. She'd taken the liberty, when that particular conversation had started, to nudge Shawn's arm until he lifted it. No matter what his new thought processes were regarding the both of them, he still pulled her closer to him, absently rubbing her arm, and Juliet sighed in relief.

It didn't escape her notice that Gus had been watching them from across the room the whole evening and that he had sighed, too. If she didn't find out from Shawn what was bothering him soon, she would go to his best friend.

She drove Shawn home that night, nodding at the officers who would be watching over Henry and following Gus home, and smiling at Buzz—Shawn's protection that night—as they strolled by his parked car. There would be no unmarked squad cars or undercover officers for this job; they wanted Cole to know they were already expecting him. He was _not_ going to get to Shawn or any of his family.

She and Shawn both slid out of the car at the same time when she parked in his driveway, meeting at the front of the vehicle and walking slowly to his door. He turned to stare at her, licking his lips in a nervous gesture, his house keys dangling loosely in his hands after he unlocked the door. She placed a hand on his chest and tapped it once. "Wait here," she murmured, ignoring the way his mouth pinched as she took out her gun and stepped into his house. She cleared it quickly and carefully, willing to risk Shawn's irritation so long as she knew he was safe.

He was leaning against the doorframe when she finished, his arms crossed and head tilted back—a sight that suddenly made her breath catch. "Clear," she said, taking the first step again and leaning up to kiss him gently on the lips. His posture was a little stiff, but his arms still circled her and pulled her in. She stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss, her fingers tugging gently at the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands slowly traveled up and down her back, a soothing motion that she hummed at.

Pulling away was difficult for them both and she smiled at his reluctance to let her go. "I love you, Shawn Spencer."

He gave a half smile and brushed a thumb against her cheek. "I love you more than you will ever know, Juliet." He stepped into his house then, and she waited to hear the door lock before she walked away.

The furrow was back in full force as she got into her car and drove off. For as much as she loved hearing his declaration back to her, there was also something very wrong about that statement. Something that had been missing ever since the first time he had asked for her forgiveness when he woke up in the hospital.

Jules.

He didn't call her Jules anymore, and she had no one to blame but herself.

"_You never told me! After all this time, how could you not tell me the truth?"_

"_I wanted to! I just didn't want to hurt you! And I was trying to protect you!"_

"_Protect me?!"_

"_I was going to tell you, I was just trying to find a way. And until I did, at least you wouldn't know. You wouldn't be charged with anything if my secret came out."_

"_How thoughtful." The words were as spiteful as she meant them to be and she took a dark satisfaction when Shawn flinched at the venom in her voice._

"_Please, Jules-"_

"_Don't call me that." The words were flat, emotionless. __The distance she was trying to place between them widened immediately; they could both sense it._

_Shawn's head snapped back in shock. _"_Please…" He pleaded with her, shaking his head slowly; but she wanted nothing to do with him._

"_Leave, Shawn. Now."_

It was just a simple nickname, but with Shawn it meant so much more. _Jules._ It had meant coworker first, friend next, then girlfriend, and then soul mate—the whole story wrapped up in one little name—and she didn't know how to get it back.

"_How was your secret exposed?"_

_The knife was starting to dig in and Shawn sucked in a breath. _

"_I was careless," he shot out. _

_The knife moved away and Shawn sighed. _

"_Careless how?"_

_Shawn's head drooped as he continued. "I was on the phone, and I said I wasn't…wasn't psychic. And Jules…Juliet heard me."_

"_And then what?"_

"_We argued; she decided to tell the Chief. The end."_

With the recognition of yet another issue she and Shawn needed to work out came the daunting realization of the tasks still left to overcome; because _this_ problem? This problem alone had roots in several issues she was nowhere close to healing.

…

Buzz McNab took his job seriously. _Very_ seriously. After all, Detective Lassiter was his role model—the man was a legend in law enforcement—and Buzz didn't want to let him down. Before he'd even met the Detective, however, the job had always been important to him for a very simple reason. Justice. He had always had a strong sense of right and wrong, and being an officer gave him the tools to make sure _right_ won out over _wrong_. The job he considered his privilege enabled him to combine his strong sense of duty with his compassion—the latter a trait that could quickly become tarnished with the dark side of humanity his chosen career put him in contact with.

As much as the Detective was his role model, however, Buzz knew he would never be like the man. They were too different. Detective Lassiter's mind was ruled by black and white, while Buzz saw white, off white, grey, black, and a whole suite of other colors. As such, motivations were a key factor in Buzz's labeling of the criminals and suspects he crossed paths with as: "very bad guy," "bad guy with good intentions," "good guy with less than honorable intent," and "misunderstood good guy."

His decisions on such a label were usually quick and spot-on. Shawn Spencer was the only one who threw him for a loop. The psychic, pardon him, _fake _psychic was a good friend of Buzz's. The man had even saved his life! He was funny, kind, and good at his job. When they had first met and Shawn had divined Buzz's upcoming marriage, he'd won Buzz over hook, line, and sinker. The man had proven his gift over and over in the years since, and for Buzz to find out he had been lying, that Shawn wasn't really psychic…well, Buzz was confused.

_Very _confused.

_Bad: _Shawn had lied. To the public Buzz would defend with his life, to the police station that held Buzz's same loyalty, and to his friends—which Buzz had considered himself to be.

_Good: _At the same time, Shawn had solved countless cases, saving people and putting dangerous criminals behind bars.

What was Shawn? He had scratched out his first two options immediately. He knew Shawn. Not as well as he had thought, but he still knew his character. So then…the good guy with a less than honorable intent? He did get paid for solving cases, after all. Or was it something else? Was he the misunderstood good guy?

Buzz had struggled with Shawn's lies until he finally made up his mind, and it was _before _he saw the video of Shawn being tortured in the cabin: misunderstood good guy with good intentions and less than honorable means to achieve them. A new label, a new color. Unfortunately, he didn't come to his revelation until after Shawn had left the station that last time and before Cole had made his move, which hadn't helped his friend any. His support for Shawn hadn't mattered, because Shawn hadn't known about it.

And so Buzz's guilt over taking so long to make up his mind inspired him to do whatever he could to support Shawn now and was an important motivation for Buzz being the first to volunteer for Shawn's newly reinstated security detail. His wife had understood the reason for his new duties and the short notice for his overtime and she couldn't be more supportive. It was yet another reason for him to be madly in love with her.

Shawn's front door suddenly opening at 1:24 in the morning made Buzz sit up a little straighter and put the car in gear. His friend's penchant for running had taken Buzz by surprise—Shawn didn't seem the type to like that kind of physical exertion, after all. Towards the end of his previous security detail, however, Buzz had clocked Shawn going out two to three times each week.

It was a puzzle that Buzz took apart in the boring hours of his watch, and one he thought he had finally figured out. Especially one night, when Shawn had pushed himself so hard he'd fallen to his hands and knees. His gasping breaths had almost masked the sound of his grief. Hovering at a distance, however, Buzz had heard. Heard and fidgeted uncomfortably, torn between trying to comfort his friend and offering him the space Buzz felt he so desperately needed.

His confusion over Shawn's new habit had cleared that night.

His ways of coping were less strenuous than Shawn's: knitting and baking with his wife and visiting the orphanage; but despite the horrors of Buzz's own experiences, Shawn had faced something much more violent and terrifying than Buzz ever had and prayed he never would. He had a feeling Shawn's reasons for his late-night jogs were less about coping and more about escaping; but that belief could just be from the influence of the psychology classes he'd recently taken.

Buzz followed Shawn as he wound his way from his house to the nearest stretch of beach, worry notching up a little higher the closer they got to Shawn's destination. He had learned in a short time to gauge Shawn's moods by how hard and fast he ran, and tonight's pace had started in a fast jog that was now heading into a desperate sprint.

Buzz stopped the car in frustration when he hit the shore, getting out quickly and preparing to continue on foot when Shawn's steps finally slowed. Buzz watched as he veered off the path and towards the surf where he came to a stop, bending over to rest his arms on his legs to catch his breath. Leaning against the car instead, Buzz scanned the surrounding area for any potential threats, noting when Shawn straightened from his crouched position and simply stood, staring out over the water. The surf crashed a little closer to his feet with each wave, but Shawn didn't flinch, didn't take a step back; just stood still as he continued to watch something Buzz could not see.

It was going to be one of _those _nights then.

Buzz kept watch over him and the area, counting the cars that passed on the road nearby as a way to pass time, his mind torn between his surveillance and his musings over Shawn's thoughts. His curiosity over Shawn's sightless gaze was always curbed with the realization that he probably didn't want to know whatever it was his friend saw. When Shawn finally moved, Buzz straightened and stretched out a kink in his back as he waited for the other man to walk towards him.

Shawn didn't meet his eyes when he reached Buzz, just leaned on the squad car beside him with a sigh. "I didn't want you guys to follow me again," he said softly.

That was an understatement. Buzz had been nearby when the Chief had told Shawn her plans and the other man had not handled the news well at all.

"_I don't __**want **__the protection." _

_Shawn's irritated voice floated out of the Chief's office, and Buzz turned to look in surprise. He'd been witness to Shawn's outburst towards Gus in the car earlier that day and he hoped the other man wasn't going to lash out again, especially towards the Chief. _

"_Shawn, Cole's back. I know you believe he won't come after you right now, but I'm not willing to take that chance." The Chief stood behind her desk when Shawn pushed to his feet._

"_I refuse it. Give it to my father and Gus," he responded as he turned to leave the room._

"_I can't."_

_Shawn froze at her words and Buzz took a step forward, nervous as he saw the other man's eyes narrow in anger. The former psychic spun around, hands clenching and unclenching at his side. _

"_Can't, or won't?" _

_His low voice just barely reached Buzz's ears and he took another step forward, looking between the two in concern, straining his hearing._

"_Can't. I offered it to them, Shawn, but your father and Mr. Guster have refused; unless…" She trailed off, looking at the younger man and waiting for him to fill in the missing detail. Buzz frowned in confusion, not grasping what the Chief was implying._

_Shawn, however, understood within moments. "Unless I accept it first," he said, shoving a hand through his hair, the movement jerky with anger. At the Chief's nod, Shawn swore, and she held her hands up to stall him. _

"_If you do, I promise to make sure they are safe, too."_

_Shawn paced her office, face creased with fury. "Fine," he said, pursing his lips as Gus walked into the office. "I accept it." He shoved a chair out of his way as he strode from her office, glaring at Gus as he stalked past him._

_A glance in the Chief's direction and Buzz followed Shawn at her nod._

"I uh…can't really apologize for doing this, Shawn. If it keeps you safe…" he trailed off awkwardly, glancing at Shawn out of the corner of his eye and away again.

A hum, a fidget, and Shawn spoke again, seemingly unwilling to sit in silence. "So…what's…new, Buzz?"

Buzz smiled, latching onto the topic in relief as he turned to face the other man. "I'm going to try for detective again."

"Oh yeah?" Shawn turned to smile at him, too, and Buzz didn't comment on how strained the look was.

"Yup. Even took a few extra psychology classes, sat in a few seminars for forensic science, too. Francine and I were talking and thought it would look good on my record."

Shawn nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah it will."

They fell in silence again, and Buzz rubbed his hands against his legs nervously. What else could he say? He had several questions he wanted to ask Shawn, like: what was it that drove him out of his house several times a week for a run? Why didn't he want the protection? And just what was it that had set Shawn off the morning before during the faux-burglary case?

None of those were questions he could ask, though. No; Buzz had a role to play, and being Shawn's confidant or the curious interloper who dug into Shawn' psyche was not it. He was the "bumbling" officer trying to become a detective, the man with the uncanny ability to see the best in humankind. He chose to believe all men were innocent until proven guilty because he'd seen how the job had affected his father and he _refused_ to turn into a jaded, hard-nosed officer like his old man. _That _was his role, and he accepted it with relish.

So instead of continuing the conversation with talk of how he was working to become a detective, instead of asking any questions that would make Shawn uncomfortable, he talked about the new recipe he'd made with his wife. And when that topic was exhausted, he moved on to the latest patterns he'd tried to knit, how his little boy (girl) cat had gotten another healthy bill from the veterinarian, and his plans for the garden he was going to plant soon.

When Shawn's next smile came a little easier, Buzz grinned in triumph.


End file.
